Metafictional diary note

I was drinking last night with the Archbishop of Canterbury and he didn’t have any interesting gadgets in his cassock but later that evening I bumped into Sean who showed me the first worthwhile use of an iPhone: fishporn. He had videos of trout in green translucent rivers that looked almost as lovely as the real thing. I didn’t want to see them caught, and I hate the bit where they are lifted from the water to be photographed—kill them or release them, but don’t film their mouths and gills working in the air—but the fish themselves were lovely and bought a sense of wildness and tranquillity to a pub back garden in Southwark. I’m not completely heartless. I did tell Rowan that there was probably still one stuga free in Lapland for the second half of July but we couldn’t agree on a price.